Extra Hot
by therentyoupay
Summary: In which Asami makes matches almost as well as she makes mochas, and Tahno and Korra are just as stubborn as ever. – Tahnorra, Coffee Shop!AU. Written for Tahno Week.
1. DREAM

**Disclaimer:** I do hereby disclaim all rights and responsibilities for the characters in this collection. Kudos to Bryke, indeed.**  
Word Count: **926  
**Summary: **In which Asami makes matches almost as well as she makes mochas, and Tahno and Korra are just as fucking stubborn as ever. – _Tahnorra, Coffee Shop!AU._ Written for Tahno Week.**  
Author's Notes: **_4/29/12_. Written for Tahno Week! **Day One: Dream**. Dedicated to **oriorio**; I never saw Tahno in this light before, but her love for this version of Tahno ["The Tahno that has a massive crush on Korra and can't admit it..."] makes me want to try. Please know that this isn't supposed to be anywhere near the same level of quality of my other stories... this one is just for funsies. ;)

(LOVING A CHARACTER WITH ONLY SEVEN MINUTES OF SCREEN TIME IS SUCH A BLESSING AND A CURSE.)

Beta'd by **ebonyquill.**

* * *

**(dream)**

* * *

"Just go talk to her."

Startled, but too proud to show it, Tahno sent a bleary glare toward the woman in the apron beside him. He wondered how long she'd been standing there.

"You're seeing things, Sato."

She smirked.

"I'm seeing lots of things, actually."

He scowled.

"What you _should_ be seeing is the bottom of a coffee grinder."

Asami cast one lingering look at the young woman sitting alone at the table by he window, then offered him a trademark knowing smile; she tossed an easy "_whatever you say, boss_" over her shoulder as she sauntered away.

* * *

"One caffe mocha, extra hot–"

"—no whipped cream," he finished dryly, scribbling shorthand over the cup. "Yeah. Got it."

A little befuddled by his tone, the young woman with dark skin and blue eyes curiously handed him her card. "Yeesh," she muttered a little sheepishly. "If that's not a sign that I'm drinking too much coffee, then I don't know what is."

Tahno tried not to roll his eyes. Professional, he could be—_when necessary_; patient, not so much. "You know, some people attempt new things every once in a while."

"Uh... _yeah," _she allowed,her spine stiffening ever-so-slightly. "And some people just know how they like their coffee."

Tahno sent her a meaningful look. "Extra hot?" he confirmed.

(His answer was a very meaningful glare.)

"You know," he continued, tapping the keys in time with his speech. All his life, he'd perfected the tone to a T; direct, yet subtle, with a just-enough pinch of innuendo and the slightest slice of disdain. "Some people might not realize their own preferences for adventurousness until, say... a sense of direction comes along."

"Indeed."

"Indeed," he echoed, leveling his gaze. "I for one believe that mornings are much more tolerable when whipped cream is involved. Some people might agree with me."

"Yeah," she muttered. She snatched the card back from his hand and ripped it away, like she might get burned. "And some people want to order their coffee the way they like it without anybody questioning them on it."

(Okay. So maybe he'd added more than just a pinch.)

"No need to get so defensive," he easily replied, racking up the final touches on her purchase at the register. "It's a little early to be biting off heads, but we do have some scones in the display."

The girl frowned. She stuffed her card into her wallet without another word and headed to the end of the counter. Out of the corner of his eye, he could _see _that she overheard him taking the next customers' orders—and, inevitably, their swooning giggles. She eventually found Sato at the end of the bar, where her drink was already waiting.

* * *

Later that night, as Asami and Korra walked home, Korra turned to her roommate and asked: "Do you think I spend too much time in the coffee shop?"

"Why would you say that?" Asami asked in return, turning a thoughtful frown onto the girl beside her. "I like it when you visit me."

"I know," Korra sighed. "It's just that... well, that creepy barista guy has always acted a little weird, but today he started _really_ commenting on my order."

"Is that all he commented on?"

"What?"

"Nothing. Korra, look, I wouldn't worry too much about Tahno. He's a little self-centered—okay, so he's a _lot_ self-centered—and he's a total playboy, but he's really not a bad boss. He's a good leader under all those layers of sleaze."

"Asami, the guy plays with fancy water all day. And he's a total sexist flirt—_totally_ unprofessional with those undergrad girls who always visit—and don't even try to argue."

"I won't."

"I mean, if I wanted to see douchebags try to pick up girls over a countertop, I'd go to a bar—but I don't. And you know why? Because I'm at a coffee shop. I go to a coffee shop because I want _coffee_, because I want to visit my roommate while she _servescoffee_, because I want to drink my _coffee _without anyone commenting about my supposed level of adventurousness when he has no fucking _clue_the extent to which I am fucking adventurous, and especially not based on what meager evidence he can dig up solely based on my fucking taste in _coffee._"

"Oh... _kay_, Korra, I think—wait. Don't you drink caffe mochas?"

"That is beside the point."

"Right. I think... I think I got it."

"Got what? Oh. _Oh_—Asami, no. Oh, no, please no—_stop, Asami, seriously!_ Stop it! I can see it your goddamn green eyes! Don't you dare get any of those crazy ideas of yours, where you try to hook me up with your really fucked-up, weird-ass connections. You already tried that with Mako and look how well _that _turned out. Remember? _Remember?_Because I sure as hell try every day to fucking forget and I—"

But Asami only laughed. "Oh my god, don't _worry_," she shushed her, swatting her roommate's shoulder with a gentle slap.

"Asami, please. I do not need this right now! I just want to be able to order my caffe mocha in peace. Those Whack-job Losers are already down my throat enough as it is with my prelim evaluations and—"

"Korra. Don't _worry._I'll keep my nose clean, I promise."

"Really?" she huffed, rolling her eyes. "Yeah. Okay. _Right_."

.

.

.

"No, really, Korra. I swear.  
I wouldn't dream of it."

.

.

.


	2. WATER

**Disclaimer:** I do hereby disclaim all rights and responsibilities for the characters in this collection. Kudos to Bryke, indeed.**  
Word Count: **1,245**  
Author's Notes: **_4/30/12_. Written for Tahno Week! **Day Two: Water**. Oh man. I just have to say: after dealing with long, drawn-out multi-chapter fics like _Personal Record _or _That One Night_, trying to fit in the same level of characterization and build-up into seven short snippets is definitely more difficult. :P Tahno Week is turning out to be super fun (OF COURSE), but also pretty challenging.

Beta'd by **ebonyquill.**

* * *

**(water)**

* * *

"Why order to-go if you're just gonna sit around and hog space during the morning rush?"

Korra blinked; Asami had just unlocked the front doors before disappearing into the back, and even though she knew she was the only customer there, Korra glanced around the seating area, just to be sure. When she turned back to the counter, she quirked a brow.

"Say what now?"

"You're wasting valuable resources," he accused, with hardly any accusation at all. His elbows came to casually rest on the counter between them; her instincts screamed _step back_, while her head begged _punch face. _Unfortunately, both were drowned out by the little voice that lived in her credit card, which incessantly cried _need caffeine._

"I beg your pardon?" she asked tightly.

"And not even just that..." he went on, shifting his weight. "Think of all the cardboard sleeves you're using to protect your little calloused fingers, when all you have to do to be, you know, a _decent_ person is simply order a house mug instead."

Korra didn't know what made her angrier; the fact that this barista guy was trying to school _her _on how to be a decent person, or the fact that he'd apparently noticed the roughness of her hands—a small accomplishment relative to the others she'd managed over the last few years, but still one of her favorite pride and joys of training in the ring. Unconsciously, her fists clenched.

"I order _to-go_ so I can take my drink _to go_, whenever I please," she stiffly replied, roughly sliding her card over the countertop. She kind of enjoyed the awful scraping noise it made against the fake granite. As an afterthought: "And don't even get me started on fair trade, or all the billions of gallons of water wasted each year for washing dishes."

A single brow arched, intrigued. "Do I hear a debate brewing?"

"I would rather hear my caffe mocha brewing, _please_."

"Such impatience. If you'd like your coffee beverage so quickly, there's a chain just around the corner. I'm sure they could slop your grinds together into something remotely edible, and it'd probably be far more suited to your tastes."

Korra scowled and crossed her arms. "Dude, there's no need to be such a snob about it."

"Does anyone have the right to be more than I?"

"To be a snob?"

"To have _finesse,_" he clarified. His voice added a silken quality to the word that Korra hadn't realized was possible; her irritation deepened. "Some would consider this a fine art, you know."

"Or cheap breakfast."

"You lack appreciation."

"You lack efficiency."

"In case you haven't noticed, little girl, your drink is already prepared."

Seemingly out of nowhere, the barista reached to the side and pulled a to-go cup from behind the register, carefully placing it in front of her. She was surprised to recognize the shorthand symbols marked into the side of the cup, but even more surprised to find it ready and steaming hot. Gently, her fingers wrapped themselves around the base.

"Who made this?" Korra asked curiously, eyeing the empty space behind the counter. No other servers were around.

He rolled his eyes. "The coffee bean fairy." At her blank look, he scoffed. "It was me. _Obviously_."

"But... When did you—"

"Your order is always the same," he snapped. She was floored by the change in his tone, which was probably why she couldn't muster any of the snappy, waspish responses that she'd come to learn was appropriate. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have other customers who have just arrived."

Absently, Korra glanced behind toward the door, where an unassuming family of four and a line of sharply-dressed business-doers were entering. By the time she faced forward again, Tahno had already turned his back to her and was busying himself with some items on the serving counter against the wall.

Still feeling a little stunned, Korra silently took the coffee cup and made her way to her table by the window.

* * *

"Ohh, do it again!"

"Please, Tahno!"

"Please, please, _pretty please?_"

"Well," he drawled, pausing for dramatic effect; the moment in which he could feel the strain of their bated breaths was usually one of the highlights of his mornings, but feeling the wind of their collective sighs was undoubtedly his favorite part. Such things had to be done properly, of course.

"Please!" they both chimed.

"If you _insist._"

He poured from the pitcher—a flick of the wrist, a twirl of his hand, shaping, flowing, light and sweet as a design curled into the dark, steaming liquid—as waves and ripples were curved into petals—until it bloomed into something beautiful, a masterpiece of cream and coffee.

"For you," he offered with a gracious smile. The girls melted on the spot.

"Oh, please."

Three heads turned toward the scornful voice, and one peered back at them with no attempts at concealing her contempt; she wasn't all that intimidating, what with her navy blue backpack and her messy ponytail, which was probably why his girls underestimated her.

"_Excuse_ me?"

Messy-ponytail scoffed from where she stood by the trashcan. "You already paid for it," she pointed out, stance swinging hipshot. "Besides, he probably uses that trick a thousand times a day."

(He resented that, actually. It wasn't like the rose was the most difficult pattern, but at least it was a little more unique than the _rosetta_ or—)

"Oh, yeah?" asked his favorite. Or was it the other one? He really needed to go about finding some way to learn their names again, in a way where they wouldn't find out that he'd forgotten in the first— "And what did he make _you_?"

Her jaw tightened.

(His curiosity piqued.)

And then she looked him directly in the eyes, gave him such a disapproving stare that he was certain the disdain stamped across her forehead could have been read by his past lives, and roughly tossed her empty cup into the garbage.

"Exactly what I paid for," she dryly remarked, as she pushed open the door. "Cheap breakfast."

* * *

He hated his breaks; usually all they did was remind him that it was still too early in the day to call it quits and head on home... but also too late to call out sick.

_Ugh_, he thought. Why had he accepted this manager position again? _Team captain, my ass_.

Absently, Tahno played with the handle of a giant mug. It was sitting on top of a stack of stained papers in the corner of a cluttered desk in the back storage room, one which they endearingly tried to call _the office_. He rarely drank coffee himself these days, and he had this lifestyle mostly to thank for it. That Sato girl hadn't quite joined the ranks yet, but she was still new—and she was quick, he remembered—so he imagined that it wouldn't be long until she converted to tea. Forever.

Sato. She knew that girl somehow... didn't she? (The one with the messy ponytail and navy blue backpack and zero tolerance for his tricks.)

Tahno frowned, and repeatedly tapped his finger against the handle. _One-two. One-two. Tap, tap. Tap, tap. Tap—_

(Korra. That was her name, right?)

Without warning, Tahno stood from his desk and stalked toward the main floor out front. He grabbed what he needed from the barista station—just a few essentials, really—and made his way back to the small, crowded office with arms full, and an idea slowly unfurling in mind.


	3. TEAMWORK

**Disclaimer:** I do hereby disclaim all rights and responsibilities for the characters in this collection. Kudos to Bryke, indeed.**  
Word Count: **1,358**  
Author's Notes: **_5/1/12_. Written for Tahno Week! **Day Two: Teamwork**. I graduate on Friday! :) Because of this, I may not have all these chapters posted on the proper days, but I will do my best to have them posted soon. (As well as another chapter of _Personal Record!_)

Beta'd by **ebonyquill.**

* * *

**(teamwork)**

* * *

"What do you know about her?"

Asami looked up from the grinder she was handling. She was doing a fine job with the mountain of sweet-smelling coffee dust resting in the bowl, but it still made him want to sneeze. "Who?"

Tahno's mouth thinned to an invisible line and, with a small jerk of his head, he subtly nodded to the girl at the table by the window.

"Korra?"

"Yeah, whatever. And save the smirk, Sato, it's not doing you any favors."

"Ah. Well," she hummed, with a not-quite-gone smile. "She drinks caffe—"

"I know," he snapped. "Tell me something else."

"All right... well, what do you want to know?"

He frowned.

"How do you know her?" he demanded.

She blinked. (She tended to twirl a strand of hair around her finger while she thought, which annoyed him; apparently even keeping her hair up wasn't enough to keep the habit at bay.) "Well, my dad met her family when we were kids," she explained, dropping her hands to the counter and seamlessly returning to her early morning obligations. "We sort of grew up together."

"Then you're the reason she comes every day," he speculated.

"Well," Asami hedged. "Every day that I work, anyway."

His eyes narrowed. "You haven't been giving her the employee discount, have you?"

She merely laughed. "_What _employee discount? And something tells me this isn't really what you want to talk about, Tahno."

Tahno shifted his weight, reaffirming his stance. "And?"

"Just tell me what you want to know," she repeated, rolling her eyes. But then she paused. "Unless... you don't actually know what you want to know?"

He scowled.

"Oh, man," Asami laughed again, setting her grinder aside. "You've got it _bad._"

Tahno stiffened. "I haven't got anything."

"I beg to differ," Asami teased good-naturedly, sending a quick and subtle glance to the windows. "Does she know? Wait a minute—stupid question—of course she doesn't know."

"There isn't anything _to _know."

Asami considered him seriously, quite possibly for the first time since they'd met. "Well, isn't this an interesting change," she murmured. "You're usually chomping at the bit to hook another line."

"Excuse me?"

"You know—chase some tail. Pick up chicks."

"_Wha_—dammit, Sato, did you grow up in a barnyard or something? What's with all the animal analogies?"

"I've got plenty. I haven't even mentioned cocks yet."

"All right," he said quickly. "All right, fine. You've made your point."

"I still haven't heard yours," she reminded him, leaning her hip against the counter. "What's with avoiding the question?"

"Question? What question?"

"I asked what's up with you. From what I've gathered, this isn't usually how you play the game."

"Ah. That question. Well, you'll have to forgive me for not detecting a question amidst all the fucking extra _wilderness._"

"Tahno," she deadpanned. "What's the deal?"

"There _is _no deal," he insisted.

"Fine. Fine," she muttered, resuming her work. "Whatever you say, boss."

"You don't believe me?" Tahno demanded, leaning closer.

"I believe that you're gonna be asking me for these grinds in twenty minutes, and I'm sure as hell not going to be held responsible for a severe lack of the Brazilian blend just because you couldn't come straight out and tell me what you want."

His frown deepened. "Fine," he sourly replied... though it still took him a minute to pull himself together. Once Sato's brows had risen almost all the way into her hairline, he gritted out another measly: "Fine!" And then: "Tell me something that other people probably don't know about her."

"You mean like... her personal interests and stuff?"

"No, anybody could figure that out."

"So you _don't _want to know more about what she does every day? Or what she studies or anything?"

(_Not yet_, he thought, before he could shut his mind up.)

"No," he clarified. "I mean something that somebody else probably won't have in common with her."

"So, you mean... You're asking what I think makes her unique?"

He didn't look entirely satisfied, but he shrugged and said: "Yeah, sure. Something like that."

"All right," she agreed, stirring the fine powder thoughtfully. "Huh. Hold on let me think about that for a second."

While she thought—finger twirling, ponytail winding—Tahno chanced a look toward the door; there, off in the corner, was a tiny table meant for no more than two, and a girl with dark skin and a navy blue backpack and messy hair poring over a book. There was a familiar to-go cup resting in her hand and a crease between her brow. He wondered what she was reading.

"Well, before I started working here, I couldn't get her to drink anything of decent quality. She was the kind of girl that would throw a mug in the microwave, but wouldn't even bother to throw a store-bought teabag inside, so she'd just end up drinking the hot water."

"Why?"

Asami shrugged. "She likes the warmth. Her favorite season is winter, if only because she likes to cocoon herself in a nest of blankets. She loves polar bears. Also, she gets really angry when people shove fake flowers in the ground."

"People do that?"

"Enough to make her angry."

"Fucking weird."

"I know, right? Wait. Were you talking about people in general, or her?"

"Both."

She swatted him across the arm; he looked down at her indignantly—_intimidatingly_—but he should have known better than to try any of those tricks with Sato. "Watch yourself, boss."

Tahno held onto his glare for a moment longer, but then he released it, along with this arm. "Fine. What else?"

"She just got out of a not-so-awesome sort-of relationship about a month ago—"

"I didn't ask for _that_!"

"Yeah," Asami blinked. "But you want to hear it. Also, in case you haven't learned already—she's got a bit of a temper."

"So do I," he grouched.

"Not as quick or strong," she countered.

"Oh, are we talking about this guy?"

Tahno and Asami started, immediately turning their gazes toward the girl in question on the other side of the counter. Tahno nearly rammed his hip into the countertop.

"Um. What?" Asami asked, trying to regain her momentum. _Sato's using the grinder upside down... _But hopefully her friend wouldn't know the difference.

"Not as quick and strong," she repeated. The girl—_Korra_—jerked a thumb in his direction. "I just assumed you were talking about this guy."

He scowled more deeply.

"_I beg your_—"

"Anyway, I've gotta run, Asami, but I'll see you at home, okay?"

Tahno's gaze snapped back to his barista, who was sending the girl off with a warm-hearted salute. As soon as she was out of earshot:

"You _live _together?" he asked through gritted teeth.

"Ah," she squinted, smiling sheepishly as she tapped the excess dust from her utensil. She wiped her hands on a nearby cloth and grinned. "Did I not mention that?"

* * *

Sometime later, as she was nearing the end of her shift, Tahno approached Sato by the blenders. "All right," he sneered, crossing his arms. He stood tall and stiff, like the pretentious, authoritative snob that he strove to be, but his face kept twitching like he smelled warm, curdling milk.

"All right," she repeated absently, carefully slicing a banana and dropping the pieces into the food processor.

Tahno's nostrils flared, but a deep breath—_maybe two_—eventually calmed him.

"You were right," he admitted, voice and spine tight. "I have a deal."

Asami glanced up, looking him over curiously. "Oh?" she breathed, setting the knife down on the cutting board. "I thought you didn't have one."

Tahno's face grew taut, and his eyes—

Determined.

.

.

.

.

.

"I want to make one."

.

.

.


End file.
